Monthly Archives: November 2018

Twain Talking

One hundred eighty-six years ago today, Samuel Clemens — AKA Mark Twain — was born, and his words still ring true today. Here’s a small sample of his pithy quotes, on topics ranging from love & marriage to foolishness & … Continue reading

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“Something Lost” — Songs of Will T. Massey

Will returned to performing and recording music in 2005 after a prolonged period of isolation. He released a couple of stripped-down records before recording his first studio album in years, Letters in the Wind. Meanwhile, a fan from Italy, Edward … Continue reading

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End of the UN-Commute

Last week was the first time since last March I could sleep in on weekday mornings — and it wasn’t just due to the holidays. Our son’s been working out at Royal Gorge Bridge Park, and since we share one … Continue reading

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Here We Dog Again…

Meet Stella. This little sweetie came home with us from the Humane Society of Fremont County this last Monday and our house has been Puppy Central ever since. You can easily see why. And here we dog again… I had … Continue reading

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Unk’s Observation

Casa Dexter’s resident curmudgeon weighs in again… Thanks again, Unk.

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Farewell, Stan Lee, American Superhero

My superhero died this week. Sure, he wasn’t just my superhero. I share Stan Lee with a whole lot of other people, but somehow, it always he felt like my own personal superhero, starting way back in the mid-60s with … Continue reading

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Seriously Older Than Dirt

Once upon a time, I was young — back in the days when gasoline sold  for 18 cents a gallon, and we only had  3 TV channels (PBS didn’t really count) that you could barely pick up on your rabbit-ear … Continue reading

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“My American Prayer” — Songs of Will T. Massey

Will released the album Wayward Lady, containing his only openly political work, in 2008. This song seems appropriate for Election Day. Lord, I’m praying about my country’s ways As a struggling artist in the U.S.A. I can’t trust the government, … Continue reading

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Granddad Writes Again of the Cotton Market, 1917

My grandfather, G.M.C. Massey left behind memoir manuscripts, and as he himself acknowledged, he wrote as stories came to mind. This meant he might repeat some stories, sometimes with greater elaboration. I find these different renderings of the same events … Continue reading

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